


HINABN mini drabbles

by Eloarei



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Multi, Originally Posted on deviantART
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tiny ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HINABN mini drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of little ficlets I wrote like 4 years ago. I just put my iPod on shuffle and wrote a little thingy for each one. I must have forgotten to crosspost this one from dA, dunno why I didn't post it here before.

Pain  
\---  
He wasn't doing it as a way to complain about the lack of affection from his family, but that was why. Didn't take a genius to figure it out. He probably wouldn't deny it, though he'd never quite admit it either. Especially nowdays, when it had become so ingrained in his habits.

 

Wherever You Will Go  
\---  
Briefly he thought about it; Surely there was somebody he had left behind. No man is ever completely alone, and there had to have been someone who loved him. It made him sad, much sadder than he'd so far remembered being, to think of having abandoned that person. Guilty.  
But the past was the past. Now all he could do and everything he wanted was to make sure he didn't make the same mistake twice.

 

A Is For Action  
\---  
He still dreamed. It was a little surprising when he thought about it, the fact that vampires still slept, let alone dreamed so vividly. His dreams lately were even more exotic and detailed than they'd ever been, and he wondered if perhaps there wasn't some supernaturalness to it.  
The most pervasive dream he had these days was reoccurring, and it unnerved him every time. It was such a simple dream. Just himself, standing alone in an open wilderness, the ground beneath him dry and cracked, the sky above him thin and off-white, and everywhere around him the sound of wind. But it wasn't the environment that scared him, it was the feeling of complete emptiness that accompanied it, the feeling that he was utterly alone, the last lonely creature standing at the end of the world.  
Of course he did his best to forget this stupid dream. It was just a dream, after all, nothing to be worried about. But still, when he saw his friends the next evening, his smile was always just a flicker warmer.

 

I will be there  
\---  
He'd had a best friend... once. Honestly, it was something he never told a single soul. Not his parents, not Lee, not even Hanna, Toni, or Ples when he got older. To be truthful, he wasn't even sure it hadn't been a dream. The little girl had been the only child he'd ever met who didn't do a frightened double-take upon meeting him. No, she'd just smiled, bright green, so-familiar eyes crinkling. They didn't introduce themselves, they didn't have any deep conversations, but for one windy sea-salt afternoon they'd played like normal children. She'd smiled sadly when they parted ways that evening, but promised that they were best friends and that she'd always remember him.  
Though he never tried to see her again, didn't bother wondering where she'd gone, he held on tight to his trust in her words, remembering in his darkest hours that someone somewhere still thought him a friend.

 

Voodoo  
\---  
She was beautiful. She was exotic like moonbeams and shadows, and dangerous like a glistening black desert scorpion. He'd known her kind for years, familiar with them to the point that he no longer feared their fangs and finesse, no longer fell for their mysticism and pure lustful gazes, but she... She was different. She had a power over him unlike any drug, and her touch wrapped his mind in velvet violet gauze before she even reached him.  
When she was gone, he sometimes wondered just what she could want from a mere human, but when she came to him, flowing through the night like so much purple lace in the wind, and swept her lips across his neck but stayed her teeth, he knew it wasn't a question. He couldn't question her motives any more than he could explain the trance her misty gaze put him in. It was magic, some vampire power, some feminine wile. It was voodoo, and he was powerless to it.  
And he didn't mind.

 

Just Like A Pill  
\---  
Even among friends, Conrad was surrounded by enemies. Even alone, enemies. There wasn't a place he could run to escape them.  
Paranoia was a great one. It tailed him through empty alleys where he was the scariest inhabitant, even before turning vampire. It made him look over his shoulder before entering his apartment, and before locking the door behind him.  
Denial was a formidable foe as well. Despite his best efforts, it popped up in the most unlikely of places, in the most comfortable conversations and safe-houses, and it wore a mask of many colors. It assaulted him with situations that liked him much more than he wanted to like them.  
Memories wound themselves up in the recesses of his mind and emerged at the least convenient times possible, and nothing short of death-deep sleep could dissuade them from reminding him just how hard his enemies had always tripped him, and how little his cocktail of prescriptions ever did to help pull him up when he fell.  
Oddly enough, the only time he ever felt the power to stand up to his foes was when he was knocked half-conscious on the floor of his greatest enemy's grungy office, reeling from the aftertaste of the man's own chemical courage. Not until his sobriety returned did he ever think to wonder which ones were truly against him.

 

So Happy I Could Die  
\---  
As far as anyone could see, she was perfectly normal. Young, beautiful, perhaps even talented. Forget species, forget that full-moon transformation, even that didn't matter. When she danced at the club, went out with friends and bathed herself in neon lights, when she surrounded herself with their naive young troubles, she was normal. They saw she was smiling, the world saw that upward twitch of lips, and they believed. Only the moon knew her pain, and only when she was alone did those redwood eyes invade her life and let her tears fall. It was fine, sometimes, but she knew he'd prefer her to live. So she danced, she bathed herself in neon lights, and she was normal.

 

I Want You Back  
\---  
It had been years... Centuries. It had been... so long. In all that time, he'd gotten used to how his life had become. Lifetimes spent with Casimiro had passed, friends and meals had come and gone, not to mention eras and trends. Really, he didn't mind it all, didn't mind being immortal. It was fun, it was interesting, and he'd learned so much. But sometimes he couldn't help regretting, just slightly, just the tiniest pang in his heart, that he'd left her. It had never been a question, his love for her, but life had simply led them in different directions and there was no use... no use wishing things had gone differently.  
He didn't deserve her anyway, her strength was so much more than his; she'd never feared death.


End file.
